


Induction

by Mouser26



Series: Supernatural AU [1]
Category: Original Work, Supernatural
Genre: Gen, Original characters and concepts in the Supernatural Universe, We're following the rules of the show, but also adding our own, cause even I know back in season 6 the rules got a little loosey goosey, this has nothing to do with the Winchesters
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-26
Updated: 2018-08-27
Packaged: 2019-03-09 16:56:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,869
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13485813
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mouser26/pseuds/Mouser26
Summary: "Wait you killed your mother?""Yep.""And that didn't traumatize you?""All things considered the possession thing was kind of a relief."All hunters start somewhere





	1. Stubborn Older Sister, Clever Younger Brother

**Author's Note:**

> Encouraged and partially co-written by the fallen angel that is Foxyfire. The Purple man is his.

Caroline had been shocked when their mother had lunged for her brother, perfectly manicured nails digging into his throat as both crashed back into the counter and then to the floor. Laurie hadn’t even had a chance to cry out as his own hands came up to grip at his attacker’s wrists in shock trying and failing to fight back.

The woman had finally snapped, was all Caroline could think before her twin’s kicking feet called her back to the fight at her own, “Let go of him you bitch!”

Theresa Van Oorscott had always been prim and petite yet her more athletic daughter made no progress in breaking her hold. Caroline yelped when one hand came away to swat her like a fly sending her a few feet to the other end of the kitchen. She wheezed in shock thanking years of hockey for a fast recovery as she scrambled back up, seeing red as her brother’s face started to turn an ever darkening blue. 

She wasn’t entirely sure what it was she had grabbed, only that it was heavy and had delivered a powerful enough blow when swung that their mother had been knocked aside in kind allowing Laurie a desperate wheeze of breath as he rolled the opposite direction. 

Rushing to her bother’s side Caroline rubbed his back, “Breathe just breathe.”

Laurie’s eyes had widened as he looked over his shoulder and past her, “Behind!” He wheezed unable to yell even in panic.

Caroline turned in an instant the cast iron pan in her hands swinging again to catch the woman that had been coming at her exposed back directly in the head, knocking the monster back again. She was distracted from the sound of iron snapping bone as _something_ peeled away from the older woman like a cobweb before both fell back together.  
“What the fuck?”

“Move.”

Caroline obeyed without thinking as her brother shoved past something clutched in one hand as he moved around his fallen attacker.

Salt. He was pouring a ring of salt around the woman who still twitched even with a fatal dent in one side of her skull and a clearly shattered arm.  
Returning to her side Laurie poured a second circle around them both, his face still flush from being choked.

“What the fuck?” Caroline repeated as the thing in the other circle shrieked smoking as it tried to reach them.

“Not human. Salt keeps it in.”

“Ok so now how do we kill it?”

"Stay in the circle."  
The voice was baritone with a slight rasp, and it carried authority. Its owner was a tall man with silver hair who stood in the doorway, a purple cloak wrapped around him.

Theresa snarled as he approached, her mouth distended as the alien words issued forth. He ignored her taunt, raising a walking stick and striking a single blow that shattered her face. An unearthly howl, a spasm, and blue smoke poured out of her and into the cane.

"Go," he said. "Grab what you can carry. We leave as soon as I clean up what's left. The house will burn, and all will assume she died in the fire."

"That's our mother!"

"No," he shook his head. "That was an angry spirit puppeting her empty shell. Your mother is gone. You did right, though; they can take a great deal of physical punishment, and iron hurts their spiritual component. Excellent idea, that skillet."

"It was handy," Caroline grinned still holding the improvised weapon even as her stance shifted to put her between the stranger and her twin.

"We'll get blamed for this," Laurie clarified voice still rough but his tone surprisingly calm, more levelheaded than most adults were in similar situations.

"I believe I said you should grab what you could carry?" His lips quirked, the edge of a smirk forming. "You are leaving with me. They will find the bodies, and ascribe your deaths to the fire."

"Bodies?"

“Formae leviate simulacrea" he intoned.  
Purple mist issued from his hand, coalescing into a pair of blackened skeletons.

"Bodies," he nodded.

Wide eyes and a muttered, “Bitchin’” aside the teens held back any further questions as they stepped from the protective circle of salt then the kitchen. There was no drawn out debate over what to take and what to leave, whether it was shock or further proof of their pragmatism, both returned in record time with loaded backpacks and a duffel. Neither had relinquished their improvised weapons and still eyed him with a wary sort of respect if not trust.

"Here."

"Guns?"

"One for each of you. If you insist on holding a weapon, let's at least make them effective."

"You're... arming us."

"Why would I not?"

"We are getting into your car, and you are giving us loaded guns."

"You are riding with a complete stranger that just slew the monster your mother became. It's the very least I can do; you have precisely zero reason to trust me."

If anything Caroline’s smile sharpened while Laurie’s face paled a bit though he did nothing more than check that the safety was on the weapon.

They had made it into the car, both teens in the backseat after checking the locks, and were well down the road before the other boot seemed to drop.

"What the hell was that anyway!?" Caroline burst out staring at their savior through the rear view as best she could.

"Lemure. Malignant wandering spirit with no family; it has nothing but anger and hostility, and it comes into being via lack of funerary rites."

"...Ok I mean I knew she was a bitch but something coming back from the dead to kill her is a bit much."

"Caroline!" Laurie groaned swatting at his sister in exasperation.

"You know it's true."

"Yes but if disrespecting the dead causes these things you shouldn't say it!"

"...Oops."

“There will be nothing left to cause a haunting.”

"Sir?" Laurie was far quieter than his outspoken twin but his tone held more weight as a result.

"Yes?"

"What are you?"

"I'm the thing that scares the creatures that bump in the night."

Both quietly processed that cryptic response before it was Laurie that spoke up again, "...So what happens now?"

"I move along and kill the next thing. You go on with your lives. Either pretend that none of this happened, say she died in a car accident. Or learn to bump back."

"Take us with you!" Caroline demanded .

"No. You'll be dead within a week. I hunt the strongest beasts, and you are far too unskilled for that."

"You mean we're weak."

"You just killed your own mother because a vengeful spirit was inside her. That may be a great many things, but it isn't weakness Child. Go, grow stronger."

"Caroline leave him alone." 

The girl sulked as she sat back in her seat making no move to shrug off her brother’s calming hand, "Fine. But we're gonna do it and we'll return the favor some time."

Laughter from the front seat silenced the twins as both looked at their amused savior, "I look forward to it!" The laughter wasn’t unkind as it continued tapering off to an amused tone, "Return the favor..."


	2. There's a Light

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In the velvet darkness  
> Of the blackest night  
> Burning bright, there's a guiding star  
> No matter what, or who you are  
> \- Over at the Frankenstein Place

The drive was long but the twins hardly made  a peep, only asking to stop when nature called too loudly, and only doing so in shifts one always keeping an eye on the car. They tried to do the same when it came to sleep but it was a losing battle and both ultimately succumbed dozing on eachother’s shoulders curled as close together as their seatbelts would allow.

They were young, so much younger than one might have guessed seeing the sister swing cast iron like a warrior born, and the brother barking tactical orders despite his injuries.  Injuries which were already blooming blue and purple under the occasional glare of streetlights.

To be fair, the ancient auto managed a smoother ride than it had any right to. The 1928 Duesenberg roadster was relatively quiet while cruising, lulling the twins to sleep with a strait-8 lullaby

As the vehicle turned from asphalt to dirt there was a glimmer as one pair of eyes opened just enough to feign sleep while still observing the changes outside the car.

The Roadhouse looked completely dilapidated from the outside, the wood exterior warped and weathered. Even by the light of the flickering neon signs advising passing motorists to “Eat” and the presence of a “Deli” it was clear the signage was rusted and stripped of most of its paint. The only thing that seemed in perfect working order was the last sign “Red’s” shining brightly in neon, bathing the parking lot in light of the same color. It could have been any number of old cafe stops for countless roadtrips over the decades, seeming forgotten by the world at large.

By the time the Duesenburg settled into it’s parking spot both of the teens were awake climbing from the car without  prompting.  

The interior of the building matched the expectations set by the exterior in many ways.  Sawdust carpeted the wood floors under well worn  tables and chairs up to the  bar and grill that took up the end farthest from the door.  Contrary to expectations though the place was not quite empty, there was  trio at one of the tables  while a lone man seemed content to hold down the bar. They were all as rough in appearance as their surroundings but again contrary to appearances the place had the sort of sleepy charge associated with airports or hospitals late at night rather than a bar. There was the faint sound of a radio behind the counter, some soft rock dedication show fitting the hour.

At first no one seemed to notice them but the soft shuffle of feet through sawdust prompted a few eyes to slide over  and  when they saw the man behind the two teens the energy went from sleepy to cautious, a bigger predator in a den of predators.

And how the wolves circled! At first, there were only four, but as chairs scraped in the corners five more men and women stepped from the deeper shadows and into the dim light. The trio went from slightly outnumbered to thoroughly surrounded.

"How'd it go, old man?"

"Success," he murmured. "With a few complications."

The atmosphere immediately relaxed, the other hunters visibly less tense. A wave started with the silver-haired man's voice, and as it washed over the gathered hunters they breathed.

It was a moment later that the teenagers also relaxed, and their escort was certain the girl flipped the safety on her borrowed gun back on.

"Care to explain how we came to have two more mouths to feed?" The man asking had appeared behind the bar along side his patrons, and now looked exasperated with his latest guests.  There the old man in Purple was almost elegant, this man was rough and weathered, scars crossing his buzz cut and cheek to emphasize his permanent scowl.

"No."

"No!?"

"No. I never explain."

"So you're just dropping two scared, beat up kids in my lap and expecting me to just roll with it?"

"Their mother was possessed by a Lemure and they survived."

"...two beds, three hot meals, and no more dumbass questions coming right up."

“Train them.”

"I have half a mind to-"

"Dullahan on Mill Valley Road!” the call came from somewhere beyond the door to the back

"You were saying, Red?"

"...Let you take care of that horseman and I will see to the kids?"

"Harm a hair, Red. You'll find that Dullahan a lot less frightening than me."

His passengers delivered to safety and a new hunt acquired the man in Purple turned to leave his last advice to the twins echoing silently in their minds.

_Go. Grow stronger._

With the Old Man gone Coral was able to better size up the twins for himself.  As he had concluded before, they were young, mid teens at best with faces that could easily pass as younger. That they were twins went without question, for all that fraternal twins were just siblings that shared a birthday, these two were nearly exact copies of each other save for the girl’s longer hair.

"So you're the old man's latest? Can't say I expect much."

The girl bristled looking ready to swing a punch, "One, go fuck yourself. Two, seriously go fuck yourself. Three, what is he?"

"That's the spirit. He hunts; he's been in the game longer than the oldest hunters we know, but they tend to have a life expectancy that caps off around fifty."

"So he's fifty? Got a lot of city miles."

"At least three centuries, based on the records."

They both stared momentarily dumb founded before the boy finally spoke up, "...That can't be good.

"There's theories. Lots of them, none of which he will confirm or deny."

"Well that explains why he laughed. Didn't seem mean."

“Ya got names?”

“Fuc-“

“She’s Caroline I’m Laurence.”

“Laurie!”

“That’ll change don’t worry about it, I sure as hell wasn’t born Coral. That is my name by the way, Red’s is my place  Anything else?”

“I’m a stubborn pain in the ass and he’s gay.”

“Caroline!”

The two where glaring daggers at each other and Coral couldn't help a harsh bark that might have been a laugh, "I doubt that will change at all, well grab your shit and come see your new digs for now."

The older man lead the two teens into the back and down a flight of stairs in what most people would mistake as a broom closet. The floor below was like something out of some cold war movie, a  cement corridor with countless doors leading lord only knew where.  At the foot of the stairs was a chalkboard  which Coral only briefly consulted before leading them down the hall. “Rose and Plum moved out today so you have have their room, it even comes with a bunk bed.”

"Why does everyone have color-coded nicknames?"

"Radio waves aren't secure, and names have power when it comes to spells. Call it insurance."

"Okay. Follow up; why are some red and some purple?"

"Auras. Hunters universally have red in their aura; it's a bloody job. But some people have a mystic flavor, and those are purple."

"Everyone who does magic is purple?"

"Does magic or was hit by it hard enough to leave a scar."

 "And how do we know our auras?"

"Specs, shades, or contacts?"

"You could just ask me," a lady stepped into view.

Her hair was blue, in a spiked pixie cut. She wore a short skirt and long jacket, with boots that reached her knees.

"Oh, hi Hy."

"She's red, he's got a bit of purple. It'll grow."

"There you go."

"I've got your room ready," she smiled. "This way?"

"How'd you know?"

"Psychic, Coral. I'm supposed to know."

"I keep forgetting."

"Old Man's going to be gone after the Dullahan. There's something eating people in Montana. He'll come back in a few months."

"Unless something else comes up."

"No, he'll be back. These two will be gone by then. She'll get her first taste of fieldwork with Crimson, fighting werewolves. He will... he's meeting Labrusca, and will learn a few tricks for managing covers."

"And?"

"I say more, it changes. You know the rules, Coral."

"Are. They. Dangerous?"

"Not to us."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All my love an frustration to my co-writer Foxyfire who pulled me into this sandbox  
> Of course comments are always welcome and sorry for any missed errors my Word and I tend to be on iffy terms at best.


	3. Everybody Eats When They Come To My House

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Twins get to see the Roadhouse and some hunters by daylight. Dialogue heavy

Laurie and his sister had fallen into a surprisingly deep sleep once they got settled into their provided room, himself on the bottom bunk while Caroline took watch from the top. Of course no need for sleep could complete with an empty stomach and the two eventually dressed and, following the smell of food stumbled their way back up to the public room of the Roadhouse.

Daylight hadn’t done anything to improve the look of the place but it did make it busier. At first the two teens were unsure about joining the other patrons peering out from the back until another young man shoved past them  with a tray of food, “Ruby! Jam! Where the fuck are Ya?!”

 

Only two people reacted to the strange names and rude address with suggestions of where the waiter could shove his attitude.

 

As the twins sat down in a corner booth to observe, a waiter walked by. Wordlessly, he put two plates and two glasses on the table and walked away.

 

"How did he know how I like my eggs?"

 

"Yeah. We didn't even order."

 

"Fringe benefit," Hyacinth smirked, sliding into the booth beside Laurie. "So this morning, your mission is to spot the hunters and then the normies. People-watch all morning. There's a pop quiz coming up."

 

"Why are you wearing an apron?"

 

"Who do you think cooks all of this?" She raised an eyebrow. "Coral may be the manager, but the man can't fry an egg to save his life."

 

"So you're a psychic and a fry cook?"

 

"And housekeeping? Don't worry about our room we know how to be tidy."

 

"What my brother means is he's a clean freak and I'll get yelled at a lot."

 

"Well one of us had to be."

 

"And one of us had to be the bigger pain in the ass or you would have gone to one of those reform camps."

 

Laurie flinched and Caroline sighed, " I never minded Bro, not like I ever did anything right either anyways."

 

"Fresh start, ducks. That's the old you, and pretty sure I read that they died. Let's turn you into hunters now."

 

The twins stared at her a moment before nodding and turning their attention back to their breakfast and surroundings. That they were not from a hunter  family was obvious but so was the fact they were survivors regardless.  They were quiet, something that was becoming increasingly less surprising the more they inadvertently revealed about their previous life. Even the way they sat spoke volumes, Laurie had settled where he could see most of the bar area including the billiards area while his sister had settled  where she could see the dinning area and entrance best but could easily shift to attack anything he might point out.

 

As the day passed, it was readily evident who was a hunter and who was not. It was as easy as seeing who actually belonged in Red's versus whom had stumbled across it as a roadside stop.

 

Small families of both varieties were in attendance, with children as young as four helping load a clip.

 

“People raise their kids for this?” Laurie asked no one in particular

 

“There are two ways you become a Hunter really, “Family Business” or well… your way.”

 

The two stared at the waiter that had stopped to tally his checks just beside their booth. It was the same young man that had passed them at breakfast , and 

had barely stopped moving since. He didn’t look more than a couple of years older than them with his hair styled in a faux hawk .

 

“So which one are you Duckbutt?” Caroline challenged.

 

“Grandpa  ran a Red’s, Mom was taken down by a vampire.”

 

“I’m sorry,” Laurie whispered shooting his sister a look.

 

“No biggie boyo, was years ago, rumor is you two are here cause you took down a lemure.”

 

“Yeah Mommy Dearest was possessed,” Caroline shrugged.

 

"Wait you killed your mother?"                                                         

 

"Yep."

 

"And that didn't traumatize you?"

"All things considered the possession thing was kind of a relief."

 

“Oh you’re going to fit right in here.”

 

“Crimson! Table 6! Move it!”

 

Sighing their informant gave a small salute before heading back to the bustle of the restaurant proper.

 

“So that’s Crimson.”

 

“Fuck. I’m  going to die on my first hunt.”

 

“No you aren’t,” Hy interjected returning now that she had chased off their other company. "First five are green, girlfriend. Number six waffles, and I can't tell you about number seven."

 

“Well I’m gonna make sure!” Caroline clarified sitting up a little straighter, “I’m gonna learn how to kill things, someone here’s bound to have some pointers.”

She perked up as she spotted then pointed to someone across the room, "Ooooh. Who's that?"

 

The hunter was sitting alone, his shoulder-length hair was blonde, loose, and a sign in its own right. Where most hunters buzzed their "head handle" short, he wore his at a length that proclaimed he knew things might grab for it and he didn't care. That marked him as a death seeker or as something more dangerous than the things that bumped in the night.

 

"Mauve."

 

“Got it,” the girl snapped already jumping up to cross the room with only a name.

Laurie shook his head watching his sister go but couldn’t help being intrigued himself, "What can you tell **me** about him?"

 

" **I** can't say a word."

 

That made him pause and tilt his head at the older woman, "Why?"

 

"Look, you are at what I call a fate fork. There are several possible outcomes to what might be, what the future holds. If I say anything about any of them, it changes the outcome; causality could break, and then we all end up in the bad future full of demon robot overlords."

 

Laurie blinked as the psychic left again, he was starting to get the idea that conversations with Hyacinth took place on a timeline only she could see and others simply had to accept.

 

Of course the roadhouse residents had also come to some conclusions of their own about leaving him or his sister alone because as soon as Hy left Coral took her place switching Laurie’s empty glass with a full one, “Hy said you needed a refill.”

 

"Coral, is she serious? I mean... robots?"

 

"Kid, I've been a hunter ten years. Seen a lot of shit, been mauled by a fair share of it. If she sees a bad future and says it's coming if she says or does a thing, don't ask her to do the thing."

 

"So...yes?"

 

"Yes. Also don't ask her for the lotto numbers."

 

"Right, she can't tell us that."

 

"Oh yes she can. It draws attention, it's a bitch to claim the winnings, and it makes other psychics not want to help us. Basically, it doesn't end well."

 

Laurie let that sink in a moment as he stared across the room at his sister and the other hunter, “Good to know.”


	4. Yes, there are two paths you can go by

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lesson time!

Training to be hunters was everything and nothing like the twins expected  
Caroline had been delighted at the prospect of learning to fight both, with or without weapons. The prospect of digging through centuries of lore and superstition about her targets was met with far less enthusiasm on her part.  
Laurie on the other hand had taken to researching with vigor, but had been torn as he realized just how often their new lives would cross the lines of what was legal and not.  
"It's not technically murder, but it is desecration of a body."  
"It wasn't properly consecrated."  
"Try to convince a judge."  
"Is that why so many hunters impersonate federal agents?"  
"In a nutshell? It's that plus access to crime scenes. Any tools we use can be hidden in an anti-terror equivalent. EMF reader can be disguised as a Geiger counter, sulphur readings disguise as gunshot residue, blood-test kit is a blood-test kit."  
"And no one looks at a Fed with a shotgun funny."  
"Caroline!"  
"You know you kinda sound like Theresa when you do that."  
"Not funny."  
"Not kidding"  
"Well-"  
"Stop fighting or you two are going to end up on triage clean up for a week."  
The two shut their mouths with audible clicks looking at their day’s instructor warily.  
“You really shouldn’t warn them like that Coral. I could use a couple grunt monkeys for a few days.”  
Three heads turned to stare at the woman now standing in the doorway.  
Dr. Violet Green was one of the more obviously odd characters that called Red’s home on a more permanent basis. She looked to be a woman in her 30’s with her blond hair pulled into a no-nonsense braid over one shoulder and a cigarette held neatly between two fingers, her dress however was much older, a long skirt and high necked blouse reminiscent of the Victorian era with the sleeves rolled roughly to her elbows. Her eyes were the most telling however, they were older than seemed possible and could pin a target as effectively as steel.  
"There are bandages to roll, needles to thread, tinctures to boil, and blood to be scrubbed," she counted on her fingers. "And I still need to run through first aid for all the different bites, claws, and stings."  
Really the lessons and even chores weren’t the worst in theory; the threat lay in being supervised by the woman in question. Violet had, in Crimson’s creative words, ‘the disposition of a brillo pad, effective as hell but incredibly harsh’.  
“Things might go faster if you take one of them while I continue with the other. It’ll cut down on the bickering  
“I’ll take the boy, he’s more likely to learn and less likely to waste my time.”  
“Hey!”  
Laurie did his best to hide a grimace shoving his sister back into her seat as he stood. “She’s not wrong, you’ll be much happier learning to gut a ghoul than boiling bandages.”  
Caroline scowled as her brother obediently followed the doctor from the room but perked up as another hunter burst in headed straight for the lost and found  
"Leprechaun infestation. I'm raiding the shoe rack."  
"That's a thing!?"  
"They have a compulsion to cobble," he nodded seeming unphased by the teen’s sudden interest shoving a pair of stillettos into her hands, "Break a buckle, bend a heel, drag a boot through mud; they will try to save it, and the better the boot the stronger the urge. Go for the Italian leather loafers; they take to those like cancer to a colon."  
"And we need to trap them?"  
"If by 'trap' you mean 'squeeze their heads in iron vices until they burst' then yes."  
"..."  
"They are insanely vindictive against those who steal their gold."  
"Okay..."  
"And they assume all gold is theirs."

*~*~*

"Here," Violet grunted. "Tincture of belladonna. It's effective for all lycanthrope bites if administered in the first hour. It's less effective as time goes by, as a dose strong enough to clear the wound ten hours later would be fatal at any other time."  
"How do we-"  
"Fresh leaves, muddled," she continued. "Vinegar, alcohol, splash of holy water. Set that aside while we boil the berries and render them to a paste. I'll tell you when it's thick enough; stir until I tell you to stop."  
"These herbs make a poultice," she continued. "You can find this one anywhere. These are northwestern plants, these are southwestern, these can be found in the central Ozark region and Appalachia. Start with this one and add the others; it will draw the infection out."  
"Haven't you heard of Neosporin?" Even as he spoke Laurie flinched, he could feel the Doctor glaring daggers at him.  
Violet said nothing at first but when she did her voice was perfectly neutral, “That may work for a papercut but we deal with bigger wounds here. “  
“I know I’m sorry.”  
“You should also know that I may not be some cookie cutter matron who kisses boo-boos but I’m not about to box your ears just because you ask questions. Just keep the sass to a minimum or I’ll be every bit the bitch they all say I am.”  
“Yes ma’am,” Laurie nodded even managing a tiny smile as he kept his attention on the pot he was tending.  
“Better Kid, you might actually survive here.”

*~*~*

They studied everything about their new lives; people, weapons, and lore. If they weren’t attending whichever hunter had claimed them for the day they claimed the corner booth by the kitchen.  
In addition to their supernatural learning Laurie had insisted they keep up with their high school diplomas much to his sister’s annoyance.  
He had lost the fight sleep once again. Despite the triple dead eye empty at one end of the table the teen was out cold his head pillowed on a book, pen still clutched in one hand. Spread out around him was a mixture of high school coursework and ancient lore, even to the uninitiated it was obvious the boy had been burning the candle at both ends the sounds of a café in full swing doing nothing to wake him in the slightest.  
Crimson had actually stopped to stare while Caroline openly flipped through a gun magazine rather than one of the many books her brother had set before her.  
“How does he do that?”  
“Do what?”  
“Just sleep anywhere.”  
“He doesn’t.”  
“He’s doing it right now”  
“Well yeah but it’s not what you think. Little brother doesn’t sleep anywhere he doesn’t feel safe, so either he knows someone nearby has his back covered or he’s not nearly as asleep as he appears.”  
"He's snoring,” Crims pointed out, “and drooling on that math textbook."  
The blonde teen chuckled fondly turning another page, "...Safe. Definitely the safe thing."

**Author's Note:**

> Comments are encouraged. There will be more to this story I hope.


End file.
